


something waiting for us

by ceramize



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: From a Certain Point of View - Various Authors
Genre: Familial Love, Force Ghost Qui-Gon Jinn, Gen, Introspection, Pre-Star Wars: A New Hope, Reminiscing, Words of Affirmation, despite it all obi wan lives to love and loves to be alive, mentions of anakin and luke, when your ghost father figure physically manifests in your home to hang out with you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24842836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceramize/pseuds/ceramize
Summary: Here, at the end of things. At a quiet exile for the rest of his days, to watch over what may truly be the galaxy’s final hope, a miracle: Obi-Wan Kenobi is not alone.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	something waiting for us

For those who are not ancient, or in tune with the Living Force, or of a straightforward, unwavering conviction, all there is to know about Tatooine can be gleaned from the most perfunctory examination. A world perceived in a single instant. But a once-in-a-generation rain – due, statistically, within the next decade – will cover the dunes with brief, brilliantly verdant life, lying dormant beneath the sand. 

Here, at the end of things. At a quiet exile for the rest of his days, to watch over what may truly be the galaxy’s final hope, another miracle: Obi-Wan Kenobi is not alone.

Under vastly different circumstances, Obi-Wan could have made a halfway decent method actor. Old Man Ben, who appears in town once a week to restock in odds and ends and keep up appearances, certainly settles over him like dust after a windstorm. The dim lamps light his secluded home with a wave of his hand, though, and the illusion falls away.

“Qui-Gon,” he says, and busies himself putting on today’s portion of water to boil. 

The first time he’d poured two cups of tea had been latent, unshakeable habit. He’d paused in his error, expecting the newly visible spirit of his master to say _Jedi do not honor the dead in material ways_ , or _save your vaporator for your garden, not this old man_ , but Qui-Gon had simply looked at the cup set in front of him with the same devastation and fondness that still roiled around in Obi-Wan’s heart. They would discuss it later. They would have many nights, after that, nights to talk through everything they couldn’t before: things that had happened to them and that they’d done to each other, simply by virtue of being alive (and not), making their choices (and not), all those thens and theres. But they didn’t say a word about it, that first night. He’d brewed enough for two every time since. 

“I sense we are not meditating tonight,” Qui-Gon says. He nods in acknowledgement at the cup on the low stone table, and to Obi-Wan he looks more solid than ever – less like an afterimage, more like he could pull out a chair with one translucent blue hand and actually sit. He stays standing, though he unfolds his arms from his sleeves. 

“You didn’t need to become corporeal to teach me to meditate,” Obi-Wan says, “and yet you still did.”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon says. His eyes crinkle warmly – an expression Obi-Wan had wanted nothing more than to cause a lifetime ago, an expression he gives so freely now. “And we are here for that same reason.”

“I suppose I find it all a bit strange,” Obi-Wan says. “On missions, we were together almost every waking hour, and rarely at a loss for what to say. But now that we’re meeting with intention, I can hardly find the words.”

He wraps both hands around his cup against the desert’s nighttime chill. The tea is still too hot to drink.

“It may be a matter of being overly aware of the effort,” Qui-Gon says. “There were certainly times when this was not the case.”

Obi-Wan just looks over expectantly – when his master has it in mind to share some little anecdote or recollection, he scarcely needs any prompting.

“The mission on Vardos, after Pijal,” Qui-Gon says, sure enough.

“I recall the mission,” Obi-Wan frowns. “It didn’t allow for much conversation.”

“It was on the transport back,” Qui-Gon says. “I had broken my collarbone, and you were trying to keep my mind off of it.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan says, a long-repressed mortification returning to mind. “I remember now. You don’t have to keep going.”

“Your class had just started a module on hyperspace navigation – I didn’t know there was so much to be said about the topic,” Qui-Gon continues, heedless of Obi-Wan’s shame, “and yet as I recall you lectured me right up until we landed, and the medical droids came for me.”

“There was no need to go into such detail,” Obi-Wan mutters, sitting down just to have something to do.

“I sometimes needed to push, for you to share your interests with me,” Qui-Gon says. “Not then. It’s a memory I revisited often, when things became more bleak.”

He won’t say it yet, not tonight, but Obi-Wan supposes it’s only fair. After all, he has a transport memory of his own that he’d remembered sparingly, during the worst of the war, to preserve its luster from overthinking it: a mission gone south, early in his apprenticeship, waking on the return trip to the sight of Qui-Gon, asleep, sitting up beside his makeshift bed of crates. He hadn’t regained full motion in his neck for days, and neither of them made mention of it. Obi-Wan had once thought he collected these moments the same way Qui-Gon collected stones and shells and pressed leaves – for no concrete reason or value, except that they meant something to himself. It was a relief to know that in this respect, they were in fact the same.

“What of the boy?” Qui-Gon asks.

“He’s a credit to his aunt and uncle,” Obi-Wan says. “Kind, sincere, certainly stubborn. He believes his duty is here, but there’s no denying he wants to see the galaxy.”

“You sense it’s almost time, then,” Qui-Gon says. 

“You would know better than I,” Obi-Wan says shortly. It’s no great secret, between them, that time does not flow linearly in the Unifying Force. “But yes.”

“Something troubles you,” Qui-Gon says. This time it isn’t a question. 

Obi-Wan takes a long sip of his tea, swirls the dregs around with a practiced motion of his wrist. “He may want to know about his father,” he says, finally.

Qui-Gon’s even expression shifts, just slightly. 

“There’s no telling where the whole truth would lead him, not this early,” Obi-Wan says. “But with everything I know, it feels wrong not to share as much as I possibly can with him – the things that would otherwise be lost. He has a right to them.”

“Suppose,” Qui-Gon says, after a long moment’s consideration, “you were to tell him the earlier stories. Perhaps an incident that could be construed as exciting, even dangerous –”

“Master, are you suggesting that I _lie_ to him?”

“Nothing so drastic,” Qui-Gon says, though his eyes are curved with faint amusement. “You’re not telling him what to conclude, simply sharing an old memory.”

“And what would I be implying?” Obi-Wan asks, playing along.

“Perhaps,” and here Qui-Gon takes a measured pause, “the mission on Rishi?” 

“You,” Obi-Wan doesn’t sputter, but it’s a close thing, “you saw that? _All_ of it?”

As Jedi, they were no strangers to missions that did not turn out as intended, but Rishi stood out from the rest as an unmitigated disaster. A gap in their research on the Rishii’s advanced mimicry abilities had resulted in a major diplomatic incident, a mangled settlement, and bacta patches covering Anakin’s face for weeks after the fact.

“I was proud of you,” Qui-Gon says. It’s so wildly unlike anything Obi-Wan expected him to say about the entire sorry affair that he wheels around, his shock open and blatant on his face. “You negotiated a happy solution to, well...”

“An appalling situation?” Obi-Wan suggests, and Qui-Gon laughs. 

“Your words, not mine,” he says. “But to answer your question, yes – I was present for a number of missions, throughout your knighthood. I was still learning to navigate movement through physical space, at the time, but your Force Signature was more familiar than most – and Anakin’s more conspicuous – and so I could follow.”

The knowledge stings, as much as it suffuses his chest with a gentle sort of warmth.

“I wish I’d known,” Obi-Wan says. “I know there’s no way, but I still wish it.”

“My Padawan,” Qui-Gon says. His voice, Obi-Wan knows, is nothing more than a projection of the Force, and yet it sounds hoarse with emotion all the same. “You did well.”

And for once, Obi-Wan tries to believe it. 

Later, he takes Qui-Gon’s teacup and carefully descends the steps to his cellar garden. Most families on Tatooine farm hydroponically, investing their resources in more practical ends than soil, but the vegetables and herbs from his memories of the Jedi Temple wouldn’t be the same without it. A small indulgence, in practice, but outsized in how much it matters to him. 

Working his way through the planters, he gently turns over leaves and new shoots until he comes upon a root vegetable with yellowed stalks. He tips the cooled tea over the plant, slow, and watches it darken and meld into the earth.

Qui-Gon had departed for the night with an oblique reference to becoming one with the Force. To another, it may have been too general to interpret, but Qui-Gon isn’t as mysterious as he thinks, least of all to his Padawan, who knows just about every diplomatic maneuver up his sleeve. This much is clear: Obi-Wan’s time is coming to a close. The revelation doesn’t trouble him, not when he’s had years to make peace with the fact, this long descent.

But without the channelling force of being alive, he wonders, would there be so many opportunities for this warm, vital consciousness, this recollection, this ache – and the wildflowers, when the storm breaks over the desert – he does so want to live.

**Author's Note:**

> title is a relic from when this was originally supposed to revolve around the two of them workshopping the   
> [chicken-duck-woman thing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RySHDUU2juM) story to tell Luke. stay tuned for the sequel where they sentimentally harass Yoda over rockin’ and rollin’... just kidding… unless
> 
> thank you for reading! <3


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